Putting My Dancing Shoes On

Since I was a little girl, I remember cranking the music up & prancing around in what I thought was a graceful manner. Graceful was apparently defined by the use of large arm strokes through the air & had very little to do with how I looked or keeping the time or what my feet were doing. In fact, it probably had the most to do with the goofy look my face would assume...the eyes closed, the eyebrows & chin lifted, the air of sophistication. I loved to dance.

Somebody talked me into taking a Swing Dance class at the senior's center my freshman year of college. Why the heck not? I loved every minute of it. Then it was on to Basic Ballroom. Then Advanced Ballroom. Of course, 'advanced' for the geriatrics unit was a relative term, but I was in my element and sadly at their pace.

So 2008 began with a hair-brained idea to put more intentional effort into activities that refresh my spirit. Dance inevitably came to mind and with a willing (albeit naive) partner in tow, I find myself back in dance lessons. And loving every minute of it. I hate the mirrors around the room for many reasons, not the least of which is that I look like someone stuffed an awkward jungle monkey into a pair of heels, but I love every minute of it. When I get to heaven, I'm going to have grace and dignity and poise. But this side of the gravestone, I leave a lot to be desired.

It's a strange thing to know you're not good at something and yet still get incredible joy out of doing it...about pursuing it...about researching it...about FEELING it. But that is exactly what dance is/does for me. I never want to tell people I take dance lessons because I'm always afraid that some day they'll actually SEE me dance! But it comes up all the time because I enjoy it so stinking much.

There is something that explodes in my chest - starting somewhere in the vicinity of my upper stomach - when certain dance moves change the direction of my momentum. It's well-known in class that once I get the giggles I'm completely useless and perhaps that's not much fun for the partner I'm paired with at the moment, but it's pure joy exuding off me whenever I get the tiniest taste of actual dancing - no thinking, just feeling - dancing.

You're never too old to learn. You might be too old to excel. You might have too much pride to try. You might be too nervous to let loose...but you're never too old to learn. Maybe it's true that we mature with age & some things we thought were splendid as kids lose their luster with time...but sometimes our maturity just talks us out of our childhood dreams. Shall we go on chickening out so that our fears may increase? May it never be! Go find your inner dancer...